[Evans sits uncomfortably hunched forward, twiddling his hat in his hands. He is above the medium height, very blond, with guileless, diffident blue eyes, his figure inclined to immature lumbering outlines. His face is fresh and red-cheeked, handsome in a boyish fashion. His manner is bashful with women or older men, coltishly playful with his friends. There is a lack of self-confidence, a lost and strayed appealing air about him, yet with a hint of some unawakened obstinate force beneath his apparent weakness. Although he is twenty-five and has been out of college three years, he still wears the latest in collegiate clothes and as he looks younger than he is, he is always mistaken for an undergraduate and likes to be. It keeps him placed in life for himself]
Marsden
[Studying him keenly—amused]
This is certainly no giant intellect . . . overgrown boy . . . likable quality though . . .
Evans
[Uneasy under Marsden’s eyes]
Giving me the once-over . . . seems like good egg . . . Nina says he is . . . suppose I ought to say something about his books, but I can’t even remember a title of one . . .
[He suddenly blurts out]
You’ve known Nina—Miss Leeds—ever since she was a kid, haven’t you?
Marsden
[A bit shortly]
Yes. How long have you known her?
